


like a long way gone

by finkpishnets



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Break Up, Happy Ending, M/M, Self-Discovery, Therapy, background Aaron Dingle/Original Male Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: “Is the end of your relationship why you sought out therapy?” Doctor Chambers asks, and Robert thinks about it, thinks about how it hurts to breathe sometimes, how he can’t sleep because the bed’s too big and too cold and too empty, how he still cooks for two or three or four.“It’s why I’mhere,” he says, and reaches for the truth, “but I think I’ve needed it for a long time.”[or: a story about break ups, therapy, diy, self-insight, and finding your way home.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> right. okay. so i have this tendency of getting really overwhelmed about certain characters and then writing incredibly self-indulgent fics that are neither happy nor angsty but make _me_ feel better. this is definitely one of those. 
> 
> shoutout to [@thisissirius](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius) for her many therapy headcanons and loving robert sugden as much as i do ♥︎
> 
> this begins sometime post week one, january 2017. feat. break ups, therapy, diy, self-insight, and original characters.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“So, what was it that made you feel now was the time to start your sessions?” Doctor Chambers — _“feel free to call me Samantha”_ — asks. She’s not got her legs crossed, no pen and notebook or patronising expression, and Robert sits in the armchair opposite and is faintly surprised by the lack of stereotype. The room’s clean and warm, pale grey walls and gold accents, potted plants by the window. It feels more like a living room than a doctor’s office and he’s glad of it.

“My fiancé and I broke up?” he says, and can’t help looking at the faint tan line where he still expects to see his ring.

“You say that like you’re not sure,” Doctor Chambers prompts, and Robert sighs, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck and leaning back.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe ‘chose to go our separate ways’ is a better way of putting it.”

“It was a mutual decision?” Doctor Chambers says, and the bitter laugh’s already clinging to the back of Robert’s throat. _No_ , he thinks. _No, no, no._

“No,” he says, because isn’t that the point of this? To be honest? “Not really. I mean, I made the final call, so maybe it’s on me. I just— I couldn’t anymore. It was the same conversation over and over and I couldn’t keep having it.”

“But you’re hesitant to call it a break up?”

Robert closes his eyes and sees Aaron’s face, the tight lines of his mouth and the tears threatening to spill, and how his heart had felt like it was going to crumble into a thousand pieces. Hears the placating words they both pretended to believe and the way Chas hadn’t been able to meet his eye as he carried his bags to the front door.

“No,” he says, and it hurts. “It was.”

“Is the end of your relationship why you sought out therapy?” Doctor Chambers asks, and Robert thinks about it, thinks about how it hurts to breathe sometimes, how he can’t sleep because the bed’s too big and too cold and too empty, how he still cooks for two or three or four.

“It’s why I’m _here_ ,” he says, and reaches for the truth, “but I think I’ve needed it for a long time.”

“Okay,” Doctor Chambers says, smiling softly, perfectly professional.

Okay.

_Okay._

 

 

**~**

 

 

At first, Robert thinks about moving away.

It would be the cleanest option. New place, new people, new him — except, for the first time in as long as he can remember, Robert almost _likes_ himself (likes who he has the potential to become), and running away isn’t a part of that.

There’s the gossip to contend with, but there’s also Vic, smiling softly as she says she and Adam are going to try for a baby, properly this time; Diane and the honest relationship they’re trying to forge from the resentment between them. There’s the promise he made to Andy, and his mum’s grave, and the guilty looks Liv shoots him in the street until he buys her chips in the cafe and tries to make it clear he doesn’t blame her for anything, not even a little.

(“—Can I come ‘round for my tea sometime?” she says, after Robert’s moved into the first affordable place that comes up for rent, five minutes out of the village. She’s scuffing her shoes against the gravel and not meeting his eye, and Robert wants to say _‘of course’_ but he can’t, not anymore.

“Maybe,” he says instead, because he stopped being able to say no to Liv about these things a long time ago. “If it’s okay with your brother. Don’t push him, though, yeah?”

Liv nods her head, lip caught between her teeth, and Robert wants to hug her until she doesn’t look ready to cry anymore.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” he says with a look at his watch, and Liv coughs out a fragile laugh and hugs him, fierce and quick.

“Leave off,” she says, shoving her hands back in her pockets with a frown, and Robert knows he’s managed to salvage at least one important relationship.)

So he stays.

It’s probably the bravest thing he’s done in years.

 

 

**~**

 

 

His new flat’s small but not tiny, and he can thank the Sugden name for that at least. There’s a wood burner in the front room, a coffee machine in the kitchen, and the bathroom’s been newly done and has the sort of water pressure Robert’s not experienced since he was living with the Whites.

The walls are all magnolia, but the landlady has no problem with him decorating, so he spends a Saturday walking around B&Q picking up paint samples. Before he knows it it’s tea time, the day vanishing, and it’s the first time since — _since_ — that he’s had something except paperwork to do at the weekend. 

The next weekend he returns to B&Q and comes back armed with Dulux and brushes, shrugging on an old shirt and getting to work. It takes three Saturdays and two Sundays to finish everything because he changes his mind about the colour in the bedroom, and it leaves him feeling exhausted and productive and a little less lonely.

(“That’s really good, Robert,” Doctor Chambers says, when he tells her. “Are you surprised to find you enjoy DIY?”

He thinks about it for a moment. “Yeah,” he says, “a bit.”

“Well then,” she says, eyes glinting. “What’s the next project?”)

The flat came fully furnished, which really means sparse and cheap, and Robert’s got nothing against a bit of Ikea but Doctor Chambers’ words are still ringing in his ears so he digs out his phone and Googles local antique shops, changing up his phrasing when the results are all a bit too posh. 

The next weekend he finds himself walking around an old, packed barn, some of it genuine antiques, some of it the shabby chic stuff that Vic loves, eyeing up prices and wondering what he could do with a sander and a lick of varnish. He ends up borrowing a Home James van to go back for two dressers and a coffee table, all in need of a bit of work.

He doesn’t think about The Mill and what it would have been like to argue over paint colours with Aaron and Liv. Doesn’t think about the inevitable charity shop vs. DFS furniture argument. Doesn’t think about christening it the minute Liv’s out of the house.

That’s not his future anymore, and it _hurts_ , burning a path through his lungs and into his heart, but he walked a way for a reason, for a _dozen_ reasons, and if therapy’s teaching him anything it’s that not all his decisions are bad ones.

 

 

**~**

 

 

The first time Rebecca tries to kiss him _after_ he pushes her away and tells her in no uncertain terms that the adjustment in his relationship status doesn’t change the fact that he’s not interested.

The second time Rebecca tries to kiss him, he realises he needs to find a new job.

Home Farm has been his Achilles heel since he stepped foot back in the village, and it’s hard now to remember why. Once upon a time, it meant something, meant he was proving people wrong, meant he’d become the person no one thought he could be before he was sent away and forgotten about. 

Now it’s just another reminder of all the things he’s done wrong.

Nicola takes his resignation from Home James with a crow of happiness, and he rolls his eyes but manages to leave the mean commentary at the door. Rebecca takes it with less grace but he’s sure the alcohol involved in Lawrence and Chrissie’s later celebration will help.

He has a bit of money in his savings, meant for the wedding and The Mill and the school trip to France Liv was banging on about around Christmas, so he knows he can take the time to find something. In the end, it doesn’t take that long. The first two companies he applies to offer him a second interview, and the third offers him a job on the spot. The old him would have taken it out of convenience, but he sticks it through the other interviews and ends up accepting a position with the second company simply because the work itself is more creative, more _appealing_ , and because the interviewers don’t once ask him if he has a wife.

It’s a forty minute commute but that’s less important than the fact that no one there knows him. He has a chance to be judged on his merit and nothing else, and he’s _excited_ , excited for the work and the challenge and the opportunity to build his own success story.

He’s excited to do a job he loves _and_ be himself. 

At the very least, it’ll be a first.

 

 

**~**

 

 

He still drinks in the Woolpack, and Chas even throws him a smile now and then. He knows it must be hard for her; if this was a year and a half ago she could have smirked and said _good riddance_ , but now it’s not so easy. Robert and Aaron didn’t break up because someone did something wrong, they broke up because sometimes what’s going on in your own head is louder than anything else, and even Chas won’t try and twist that into Robert’s fault.

If Aaron’s there, Robert sits at the other end of the bar or at a table that’s never meant much to them. It’s not that he’s avoiding him — if he was, he really would have left after it first happened — but he doesn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already are.

(He doesn’t want to choke on conversation. Doesn’t want to feel the tips of his finger ache with the need to touch. Doesn’t want to say _‘I love you’_ when it’d only do more harm than good.)

Instead he has a drink with Vic and Adam, or makes small talk with villagers who don’t know what to make of him now that he’s not one half of Robert-and-Aaron. Sometimes he helps Liv with her homework over a bowl of chips, and Aaron’s soft, grateful smile is enough to shed Robert’s concern over spending time with her.

Diane begins inviting him back over to Sunday lunch, and he goes when he can but doesn’t put pressure on himself or on her. They’re _better_ but they’re still not great.

It’s life continuing as normal, and sometimes it threatens to turn him to ash.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“After,” Robert says, staring at a picture of a city street somewhere he’s never been. “ _After_ , I wasn’t great.”

“What do you mean?” Doctor Chambers asks. She’s wearing navy today but there’s a pin oh her lapel that looks like it was made by a child. He wonders how many she has, if they’re hers at all or nieces, nephews, and knows better than to ask.

“I’m not a good person,” Robert says eventually. “I’ve never been a good person. When you said about my defences, you were right, but you can’t even _begin_ to know—” He takes a breath. “When I feel cornered or hurt or scared or…pretty much anything except in control, I get destructive. _Really destructive_. Mostly towards other people but also to myself.”

“And after you and Aaron broke up, you became destructive?” Doctor Chambers says, and Robert can’t even begin to understand how she stays so professional, so non-judgemental all the time, but he’s so grateful it hurts.

“I thought about it,” he says. In the picture of the city it’s raining, and Robert looks at the shadowed memory of lights and imagines he can see them flicker. “I thought about drinking too much, going into town, finding someone, anyone. Before Aaron sex was easy, you know? It was fun. Useful, sometimes. I thought about just letting myself spiral.”

“But you didn’t,” Doctor Chambers says. “Why not?”

Robert watches the imaginary lights and thinks about all the places he’s never been. “Aaron would have been disappointed in me.”

Doctor Chambers hums. “And that mattered?”

Robert smiles, the flames licking at his lungs. “Always.”

 

 

**~**

 

 

Some days are worse than others.

Time’s helped soften the edges of the break up ( _the break up_ , like it’s that easy. It deserves to be capitalised at the very least: The Break Up. Defining and all-encompassing, scrabbling for shards of himself in the wreckage.) but not the empty hole afterwards. Robert’s been part of a _Robert-and-_ for so long. _Robert-and-Andy. Robert-and-Katie. Robert-and-Chrissie. (Robert-and-Rebecca, shh.) Robert-and-Aaron. Aaron-and-Robert. Robert-and-Aaron-and-Aaron-and-Aaron._

His whole life’s been built on other people’s opinions, other people’s expectations, the bad and the good and the worse, and Robert doesn’t know who he is under all that, not really. Coming out was a start — _the_ start — but it’s still just one shard, one piece, and the rest of him? The rest of him’s a mystery he doesn’t know how to solve when he’s not living for someone else.

Some days it’s all he can do to get out of bed, to leave the house, and it’s not about Aaron — not _only_ about Aaron.

He thinks figuring that out might be a good start.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“You alright?” Aaron asks. They’re in the cafe, waiting for their coffees, and they’ve been broken up for months. Small talk’s far less awkward than ignoring each other, so Robert nods, smiles a bit.

“Yeah,” he says, and in the grander scheme of things it’s the truth. “You?”

“I’m good, yeah,” Aaron says. He taps his fingers against the counter and Robert notices that his jumper fits him perfectly. It’s such a small change and Robert’s surprised by how jarring it is.

“Scrapyard going well?” Robert asks, because Aaron made the effort and he can too. It’s not the question he wants to ask ( _How are you really? How’s Liv? How’d her English exam go? Is the shower still playing up? Did you ever finish Breaking Bad? Do you regret stuff? Do you still—?_ ) but it’s a valid one. Robert’s still a silent partner, technically, but Adam brought up buying him out recently, ready for a blow out, and Robert surprised everyone by agreeing to think about it.

“Pretty well, yeah,” Aaron says. He ducks his head, bites his lip. “Adam said—”

Robert nods. “Yeah. I mean, if that’s what you guys want.”

Aaron looks up then, meeting his eye. His look’s searching, and Robert’s not sure what he finds but it must be what he needed ‘cause he’s nodding his head, a sad smile caught at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah,” he said. “If you’re sure.”

“Okay,” Robert says.

It sounds more like _goodbye_ than anything else.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“Aaron’s started dating again,” Robert says. It’s a Thursday evening and it’s raining. Robert’s still wearing his work clothes, and there’s a spot on his tie where he’d spilt his coffee at lunchtime. 

Doctor Chambers blinks. “He told you that?” she asks.

Robert shakes his head. “No,” he says. “It’s none of my business. Vic told me.”

“Your sister,” Doctor Chambers says. “She felt you should know?”

“She was worried about me,” Robert says, picturing Vic’s wide eyes and careful tone. She’d cooked him his favourite and opened a bottle of wine, and Robert had been silent for a long moment before asking her about her day. He’s not sure if her expression had been relief or sadness.

“Should she be?” Doctor Chamber asks, and Robert’s learnt enough from her to mull over his answer.

“No,” he says eventually. “It’s not exactly a surprise.”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t hurt,” Doctor Chamber says, and Robert feels smoke curl around his eyelashes.

“No,” he says. “It doesn’t.”

 

 

**~**

 

 

Robert’s always enjoyed working, but he thinks this might be the first time he’s loved it.

Everyone knows he’s single, knows vaguely it’s because of a break up, but when Carol, the department P.A., asks him — hypothetically — if he’s ready for start looking for a girlfriend, he shakes his head, laughs, and says, “Girlfriend, boyfriend, we’ll see,” before he can overanalyse.

It’s not the smoothest thing he’s ever done, but Carol’s eyes light up and she happens to _mention_ that “Marcus, from H.R…” and Robert looks around the rest of the room and sees how little attention anyone’s paying, how little it _matters._

Later, he realises it’s the first time he’s come out solely for himself.

It tastes a bit like freedom.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Aaron’s new boyfriend is a car salesman from Leeds.

They met over a scrap deal.

His name’s Karl.

He drives a Range Rover.

Vic tells Robert all this in stilted conversation over fish and chips at his newly restored kitchen table. The detailing in the legs had been fiddly but Robert’s been experimenting with chip carving and it’s turned out well even if he does say so himself.

“Is he nice?” Robert asks when Vic’s spent too long reading the back of the vinegar bottle.

“Adam likes him,” she says, going for non-committal, and Robert nods.

“Good,” he says.

Vic hums and reaches over to squeeze his hand, pulling away before he can comment.

It is good. Aaron deserves someone nice, someone he doesn’t share too much history with, someone who doesn’t destroy everything they touch.

“I just want Aaron to be happy,” Robert says.

He wonders if that’ll ever become anything less than his greatest truth.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Robert’s client has to cancel their meeting last minute due to a family crisis, rearranging with a colleague for the next day, so now Robert’s stuck in Cambridge overnight. It’s not the worst place to be, even if it is swarming with students and tourists, and Robert checks into the first semi decent hotel he comes across and goes out in search of food.

He calls the office, filling his boss in on the change of plans, and gets put through to Carol so she can rearrange his schedule for the next couple of days.

“Ohh,” she says, “you should do a tour of the colleges or go on one of those boat things.”

“It’s October,” Robert reminds her, but can’t help smiling. “I don’t fancy falling in and catching pneumonia, cheers.”

“You could call Will, at least,” Carol says, and Robert frowns at the change of topic.

“Who?”

“Will,” she says. “Will O’Connell? He’s on loan to the Cambridge branch graphics department. He normally works two floors above you. Ringing any bells?”

“None at all,” he says, but he’s got along with his colleagues well enough so far, and the idea of sitting alone in a Travelodge ranks pretty low of his list of evening activities. “Give me his number.”

Will’s pleasant enough, and less surprised by the call than Robert would have been. They agree to meet at a bar not too far from Robert’s hotel, and since Robert hadn’t brought a change of clothes, he’s still stuck in his suit.

He’s the first one there, and he orders a pint and plays on his phone until someone slides into the seat next to him.

“Hi,” Will says, and Robert blinks.

He’s in his mid-thirties, maybe, and his blond hair’s a few shades darker than Robert’s. He’s wearing jeans and a cream, wool knit jumper, and Robert’s startled by the attraction that tugs at him.

It’s only now he feels it that he realises how long it’s been since he _has_.

“Hi,” he says.

 _Thank God for low lighting_ , he thinks and wills away the flush on his cheeks.

 

 

**~**

 

 

The first time he stays over at Will’s Leeds flat it’s not planned. He drives home the next morning in worn clothes, the taste of Will’s atrocious coffee on the back of his tongue and can’t bite back the smile that’s been dancing across his lips for weeks.

Emmerdale looks beautiful in the early morning light, mist blurring the edges, and puddles from the late Autumn rain making everything soft. He’s hated this village as much as he’s loved it, but it’s home and that’s always mattered.

His eyes turn to The Mill as he passes, and there’s Aaron standing on the front step, tugging a scarf around his neck. Time stops, drags, even in the blink of the passing car, and guilt trips over him like a wave. Robert keeps his fingers on the steering wheel and turns his focus back to the road ahead.

It’s irrational. He has nothing to feel guilty about, but it’s so instinctive it leaves him lightheaded.

 _You are not your past_ , he tells himself.

_You are not doing anything wrong._

_It’s okay to be happy._

It still takes him three days to return Will’s calls.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“Everyone’s staring,” Robert says, clutching the plastic glass in his hand until it pushes out of shape and beer threatens to spill over his coat.

Vic hums, tugging on her glove with her teeth and slipping it in her pocket before digging into a packet of crisps. Adam’s by the hotdog stand, trying to fit as many toppings as possible on one roll, and Robert vows to steer clear of him lest he wants mustard over his shoes again.

“You brought Will,” Vic says like that answers everything, and Robert huffs in frustration. Vic rolls her eyes. “Rob, you brought your _boyfriend_ to the village bonfire.”

“Everyone’s known I’m bi for ages now, Vic, it’s hardly news of the year.”

“Yeah,” she says, and she’s using that tone that means she’s going to say something he may not like but she’s his little sister so he can’t snap. “In _theory_. In practice the only bloke they’ve ever seen you with is Aaron.”

“My sexuality isn’t dependant on who I’m dating,” Robert says, trying to keep his voice steady, and Vic squeezes his arm.

“ _I_ know that,” she says. “‘Course I do. But a lot of people—”

“A lot of people just assumed I’d go back to woman only after me and Aaron split,” Robert says, getting it. “If they called it a _’phase’_ , I swear…”

“Some people can’t help being idiots,” Vic says. “The important thing is that you’re ignoring them. Also that your boyfriend’s super cute, congrats on that by the way.”

“Am I being objectified?” Will asks, slipping between them and stealing Rob’s beer with a smile. Rob echoes it, letting his arm press closer.

“Yep,” Vic says with a grin.

“Brilliant,” Will says.

Robert can feel eyes on him, losing their footing in surprise and uncertainty and judgement.

“Hotdog?” he asks, and Will chucks the empty beer cup in the bin with a laugh.

“Go on then,” he says.

 _Let them stare_ , Robert thinks and takes his hand.

 

 

**~**

 

 

It’s Liv that tells him Aaron and Karl have broken up.

She’s invited herself ‘round for tea, and Robert’s ninety-percent sure it’s because she’s skipped school again, but he’s no longer responsible for her so he lets it go and tells her to grab the peas from the freezer.

“One minute they’re watching footie and talking about building a shed in the back garden, and the next Karl’s stuff’s all gone and his stupid Range Rover’s not taking up valid moped space.”

“You’re not getting a moped,” Robert says automatically, and then thinks about the rest. “Are you okay?” he asks. “That’s a pretty sudden change.”

She shrugs and doesn’t point out that she’s been through her fair share of those. “Doesn’t bother me,” she says, and Robert wonders if she really means it. “Karl was all right but he was super boring. He liked documentaries about trains.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Robert says defensively, and Liv rolls her eyes.

“Yeah,” she says, “but you used to be kind of a sociopath so you have that going for you at least.”

Robert sighs. “You haven’t become a vegetarian whilst I wasn’t looking, have you?” he asks, and Liv scoffs.

“Don’t be daft. I’ll leave that to Gabby, cheers.” She jumps up to sit on the counter, swinging her legs. “Did you change the cabinet doors?” she asks, frowning down at her feet.

“Yeah,” he says. “Want to hear all about the difference between shaker and thermofoil?”

She blinks up at him. “No,” she says. “Also, I still hate you a bit.”

“‘Course you do,” he says, and nudges her leg until she sits on a chair like a human being.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“How’re things going with Will?” Doctor Chambers asks. Today she’s decked out in dark green and Robert supposes it’s as close to Christmassy as she can get whilst staying professional.

“Good,” he says. “Great.”

“A couple of weeks ago you mentioned possibly going on holiday together,” she says. “Did you speak to Will about it?”

“Not yet,” Robert admits. “I figured I’d wait until after the holidays. He’s going back to Ireland anyway, so there’s no rush.”

“Are you having second thoughts?” she asks, and it’s a valid point.

“Not really,” Robert says. “Some. I just— I don’t want to rush into things too soon.”

“That’s a valid concern,” Doctor Chamber says, “but did something happen to trigger it?”

Robert’s fingers scratch lightly against the arm of his chair. “We ran into Chrissie,” he says, and sees Doctor Chambers nod from the corner of his eye.

“Did she say something to upset you or Will?”

“She didn’t say anything,” Robert says. “That’s the thing. When I was with Aaron she couldn’t help but make digs at us, but now I’m with Will she barely looked up.”

“Do you think that’s because Aaron was directly involved in her pain but Will’s a stranger?” Doctor Chambers says.

“Obviously,” Robert says. “But I’m still surprised she’s not trying to make me pay anymore.”

“Do you think she _should?_ ” Doctor Chambers asks.

When Robert first met Chrissie, she was a force to be reckoned with. Whip-smart and charming and kind, able to control a room with the flick of her gaze and make a man feel like he was worth something just from her attention. Robert knows he’s not the only reason Chrissie was forced to build new walls around herself, but he was a large contributor, and now, away from the humiliation and the anger and the indignation of it all, Robert honestly regrets that.

(Not Lachlan, never Lachlan. Andy was a lot of things but he was Robert’s family and Lachlan’s crimes were his own.)

“I don’t know,” he says eventually, and Doctor Chambers hums.

“I think you should ask Will about that holiday,” she says.

And, yeah.

She’s probably right.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Robert’s not naive enough to mistake colleagues for friends on the larger scale, but he has managed to drag a few decent relationships outside of the office.

It’s weird to wake up a year into a job and realise he has _mates_ , people who search him out for a cheeky mid-morning coffee like they’re not given the freedom to control their own schedules, or invite him to things at the weekend. They text and call and hang out without being paid for it, and Robert not only knows about their lives, but _cares_ about them, too.

It’s why he says yes immediately when Cass calls, newly back from a week in the Caribbean and craving the gossip she’s missed like Carol’s crush on the delivery man is hot news.

His living room’s currently covered in dust sheets whilst he builds shelves for above the bed, so he meets her at the Woolpack, ordering a large vodka tonic alongside his pint and snagging them a table. The pub’s beginning to fill up for the evening, and Robert exchanges a few smiles and a bit of small talk as he waits.

When Cass arrives it’s in a whirl of tanned skin and plastic jewellery, and Robert bites back a laugh when she drops down in front of him with an overly dramatic sigh.

“Robert Sugden,” she says, “aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

It takes no prompting at all for her to start telling him all the stories from her holiday, and Robert’s always thought Cass belongs on the stage rather than designing slogans for national advertisements. Before long he’s clutching his thighs with laughter, his pint in need of a refill, and feeling loose and easy and happy.

He goes for the next round, and when he returns Cass’ eyes are a little more focused.

“We’re getting a surprising amount of judgemental looks considering I’ve never been here before,” she says. “Normally it takes people at least a week before they hate me.”

Robert’s been so caught up in spending time with a friend that he hasn’t noticed. All the comfort washes out of him as he looks around the room. Even Chas is throwing unsubtle glances over at them, and Robert had really thought—

“They think I’m cheating on Will with you,” he says, keeping his voice low, and Cass’ glass hits the table with a thud.

“What?” she says, and Robert lets out a long breath and tries not to react.

“Sorry Cass, but apparently you’re the other woman.”

“Not the worst thing I’ve ever been called,” Cass says, “but still, what a load of rubbish.”

There’s still a part of Robert that thinks maybe he deserves it. It’s something he talks a lot about with Doctor Chambers, about as much as his familial and abandonment issues, but it doesn’t matter how often he tells himself he’s moving past it, it’s still there, niggling at the back of his mind.

Now though—

Now there’s the bigger part of him that thinks it’s just getting fucking ridiculous.

“Ignore them,” Robert says, reaching for his pint, and Cass throws him a wink that probably only fuels fire but makes Robert feel better anyway.

Cass switched to soft drinks after the first, moaning about having to drive and the price of Piña Coladas abroad, and they make it through a third round before she has to leave. 

“You’re still coming to our dinner party next week, right?” she says, shrugging on her coat, and Robert doesn’t think about the slight raise in her voice at first. “I’m trying to convince Maggie to cook her famous risotto but she’s on a Caribbean kick now so she wants to _experiment_ , which we will obviously all eat and then praise her effusively for. Also, tell Will that if he challenges my wife on another recipe I will end him.”

The plans he has with his friends are no one else’s business, but he sees Chas close her eyes in self-annoyance over Cass’ shoulder and hugs Cass tight.

“I told you you shouldn’t let him near the kitchen,” Robert says. “ _None_ of us want a repeat of the chilli contest.”

He walks Cass to her car, waving as she drives away, then turns to smile a polite goodbye when the Woolpack door opens behind him.

Aaron’s hand are shoved in the pockets of his hoodie and he’s had his hair cut lately.

“Hey,” he says, and Robert nods back, smile still caught on his lips.

“Headed home?” Robert asks. It’s a nice night, spring warming the ground and a breeze making Robert’s hair brush over his eyes.

“Yeah,” Aaron says. “Liv has a music thing in the morning.”

“Ah,” Robert says, “the dreaded Miss Hall. Wish her luck from me, yeah?”

Aaron nods, watching him with an expression Robert doesn’t recognise, and he hopes Liv’s told Aaron they still see each other sometimes. She’s promised she has, but she’s also tried to talk him into getting her a credit card, so…

“Rob,” Aaron says, when Robert’s turning to leave. He looks back and Aaron’s eyes are clear and full of something he can’t put his finger on. “It’s good you’re happy.”

Robert thinks of a dozen things to say and settles on nodding.

Aaron smiles and walks away.

 

 

**~**

 

 

There’s too many people crammed into his living room, but most of them are at least partway to tipsy, and Maggie and Will have both overdone it on the snacks, so no one cares.

Robert’s stuck between Will and Patrick, Kelly half perched over the arm of the sofa and giggling each time she almost falls off, and the Commonwealth Games are on in the background, mostly only paid attention to when someone remembers they were going to bet on the winners.

Someone’s recounting a childhood javelin experience when the doorbell goes, and it takes Robert longer than it should to detangle himself from the mass of bodies. He’s still laughing when he opens the door but it slips away at the sight of Liv, arms wrapped around herself and eyes wet.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, and he’s already pulling her to him.

“Nothing,” she says, voice muffled against his shirt. “It’s stupid.”

“Okay,” Robert says, relaxing when he realises no one’s dead or maimed or in hospital. “Tell me anyway.”

“I spoke to my mum,” Liv says eventually, slipping out of Robert’s arms with a shrug. “It was crap. I told you it was stupid.” She wipes a furious hand across her eyes, and Robert pretends he doesn’t see. “Aaron’s on some overnight scrap thing. I’m supposed to be staying with Chas.”

“Come on,” he says. “If you can put up with this lot crying about the glory days, I’ll make you a hot chocolate and let you tell everyone how old they are.”

“Yeah?” Liv says, eyes darting towards the burst of noise as someone tells another punchline.

“‘Course,” Robert says, rolling his eyes, and Liv looks happier as she slips between him and the door.

He calls Aaron before he follows her in, and wonders in surprise if he still has the right number. Aaron picks up on the second ring.

“Robert?” he says, sounding understandably confused.

“Hey,” Robert says. “Look, Liv’s just shown up. Apparently she spoke with her mum and she’s in a bit of a state.”

“She all right?” Aaron says, on alert, and Robert nods to no one.

“A few tears,” he says, “nothing a lot of sugar and a chat won’t fix. I know she’s meant to be staying with your mum, but…”

He half expects Aaron to refuse, to tell Robert ‘thanks, but no thanks’ and call Chas to pick Liv up.

“…You don’t mind?” he says instead, and Robert’s tongue trips over a reply.

“‘Course I don’t,” he says, and hopes the pause doesn’t diminish the sincerity.

“Thanks,” Aaron says. “Give me a ring if you need anything, yeah?”

“Sure,” Robert says. “Bye.”

When Robert goes back in, Liv’s made a space next to Cass on the carpet instead of stealing his spot, and Robert grins his thanks and heads for the kitchen to make her the promised hot chocolate, followed by a loud stream of requests and Will.

“Hey,” he says. “Patrick says he’ll give me a lift back to mine tonight.”

“You sure?” Robert says with a frown. “Liv won’t care you’re here.”

“I know,” Will says, reaching for a mini burger. His hair’s grown longer over his ears and he still makes attraction tug at Robert’s chest. “I’m not great with teenagers, though, and she’s here for you not some bloke she barely knows.”

Robert wants to wave it off, but it’s a valid point.

“You’re pretty great, you know that?” he says, and Will kisses him with a smile and steals more mini burgers from under Robert’s arm.

 

 

**~**

 

 

“Will and I broke up,” Robert says. He’s underdressed in jogging bottoms and a t-shirt but it feels productive enough just leaving the house for anything except work.

He hasn’t been alone; Cass and Maggie had shown up with two bottles of vodka and a plate of homemade quesadillas, and the three of them had got completely pissed and fallen asleep on the sofa under a bundle of coats. At the office, Carol’s been blaming herself, biting her lip and leaving chocolates on Robert’s desk that he slips to Kelly when she’s not looking.

“I’m sorry,” Doctor Chambers says, wearing cream, and sounding sincere. “How are you doing?”

And, yeah. That’s the question.

He’s hurt. Angry, even.

He feels bitter and humiliated, unable to process that he’d been pondering an _‘I love you’_ whilst Will was pondering someone else. There’s the guilt of his own past still whispering that maybe he deserves it, deserves to be on this end, and the part of him that’s worked so hard at building his own story piece by piece pushing back and reminding him that his past is not his present.

There’s all that.

But underneath?

“I’m okay,” he says, and the fire in his lungs crackles, low and ready. “That’s the worst part. I’m okay.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Doctor Chambers says, and Robert shakes his head.

“It’s just… I was going to tell him I loved him, and now I realise I didn’t.” Robert shuts his eyes, tries to find the right words. “I was going to say it because it seemed like the next logical step in the relationship. I’ve worked so hard at not being the bloke I used to be, but I was doing the same thing I did with Chrissie. Not the cheating — I didn’t and I wouldn’t — but following a list in my head without feeling it the way other people do.”

“We’ve talked about you comparing yourself to other people,” Doctor Chambers says.

“I know,” Robert says, “and it’s not that. Not really. I’m not comparing _myself_ to _other people_ , I’m comparing the way I _feel_ about other people—”

“To the way you felt about Aaron,” Doctor Chambers says, and Robert nods.

“I know what it feels like,” Robert says. “I know how _I_ feel when I’m properly in love. I was happy with Will but it wasn’t that.”

“I know it may not seem like it right now,” Doctor Chambers says, leaning forward, “but that distinction is an incredibly important one to make.”

“I don’t know what to do,” Robert says, and it’s the sort of honest he’s trying to be everywhere, not just in this room.

“You’re allowed to mourn a break up,” Doctor Chambers says. “But, Robert, your romantic relationships do not define you.”

“I know,” he says, because he does.

He _does_.

It’s just hard to remember sometimes.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Work’s been chaos all week as they finalised a huge ad campaign, and Robert’s managed to grab maybe six hours of sleep in the last three days, running on caffeine and a steady supply of mediocre take-away. He needs a long shower and his own bed, but he’s also floating on the high of a job well done, and it’s exhilarating in a way his work life’s never been.

It’s all meant pushing his appointment with Doctor Chambers to Friday, though.

He’s early, so he’s cradling a cup of crap coffee on a bench outside, revelling in the summer heat and trying to skip the urge to people watch. Robert’s not remotely ashamed of seeing a therapist anymore, but the least he can do is afford other people some privacy.

It’s why he doesn’t look up when someone walks out the door, and why he’s surprised when they say his name.

“Robert?”

Aaron’s watching him like maybe he’s not really there, a figment of his imagination, and Robert blinks up at him for a long moment before finding reality.

“Hi,” he says.

“You’re not—” Aaron says, folding his arms over his chest. “You’re not looking for me, are you?”

“No,” Robert says quickly. “No, I’m… I have an appointment.”

Aaron frowns, looking back at the door.

“I’m normally here Thursdays,” Robert says, catching on. “I had to reschedule.” 

“Oh,” Aaron says.

It’s not Robert’s place to question, he has absolutely no right to even _ask_ , but—

“You okay?” he says, and it’s pointed and a little desperate, and Aaron’s eyes soften into a smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “This isn’t… This is for me.”

Robert’s noticed, of course he has. He’s noticed the way Aaron’s shoulders sit a bit straighter, how he smiles more easily, how he looks less haunted. Not always, but enough to be _something_.

“I’m glad,” Robert says, and shuts the alarm off on his phone when it reminds him of the time. “I’ve gotta go.”

Aaron nods. His smile’s still there, and it’s a little less happy but no less real.

Robert wishes he knew what it meant.

 

 

**~**

 

 

Life goes on.

Robert builds Diane a new wardrobe, and Vic a crib for the baby who’s hanging on ’til her due date with the stubbornness of any Sugden. He spends time with friends, and with Liv, and goes on holiday to Italy by himself just because he can. Work’s still challenging and still fun, and when Robert gets home at night he doesn’t feel lonely.

He goes on a couple of dates, one that’s over before dessert, and another that lasts through a fun but string-free weekend and ends with a red lipstick kiss to the cheek, but is just as content to sit in front of the TV.

He’s single, and he’s _happy_.

It’s a bigger revelation than it probably should be.

 

 

**~**

 

 

The British weather gives them a heatwave in late October, and Robert’s sitting on top a picnic bench outside the Woolpack, jumper under his arm, getting some much needed air. The weather’s left everyone buzzing, drinking enough to leave a tidy sum in Chas’ pocket and participating in community moaning about the sticky heat, and Robert’s joined in but for now he just needs some peace and quiet.

His eyes are closed, head tilted back in search of a breeze, and he feels Aaron’s presence before he climbs up next to him.

“Hi,” Robert says without opening his eyes, and Aaron hums back, amused. They stay like that for a while, but eventually the silence is too much.

Aaron’s watching him with a soft expression that dulls the flames in Robert’s lungs.

“Hi,” he says after a moment, not shying away. “I’m Aaron. I come with a mad family, a gobby little sister, and more issues than anyone can count. I like dogs, I co-own a business with my best mate, and there’s this bloke that I’ve loved for as long as I can remember. I messed things up with him because of stuff that was going on in my head, and I won’t apologise for that because it’s not my fault, but it definitely wasn’t his either.

I have a lot of trust issues, and it was easy to imprint them onto him ‘cause of our past, but that wasn’t fair to him, and I get why he couldn’t handle it anymore.”

“Aaron—” Robert says, his skin alight.

“I miss you,” Aaron says. “I miss you and I love you, and if you’ll have me, you’re the only person in the world I wanna be with.”

There’s air flooding through Robert’s lungs, clear and crisp and washing away flame and ash.

“Hi,” he says, and remembers how to breathe. “I’m Robert. I like to build furniture, spend too much money on suits, and laugh at my friends. I love my job, I’m addicted to game shows, and I see a therapist once a fortnight to talk about my own extensive list of issues. 

I’ve only ever been properly in love once, but it didn’t work out ‘cause we both spent too much time ignoring what was going on in our own heads. Since we broke up, I’ve learnt a lot about myself, especially that I can live without him.”

Aaron’s expression falls, and Robert reaches out, tangling their fingers together.

“I’ve learnt that I _can_ live without him, that I can be _happy_ without him.” He takes another breath, revelling in it. “Aaron, it means when I choose you it’s because I _want_ to, because I love you and miss you, not because I don’t know how to exist without you.”

Aaron’s eyes are wet, and Robert’s in no doubt his are the same. He can feel Aaron’s calluses under his fingers, feel his own heart racing, and still feels _sure_. 

“Is that a yes?” Aaron says, and Robert presses a barely-there kiss to his cheek.

“It always has been,” he says. “This time it’s just a healthier one.”

Aaron huffs out a laugh, reaching for him with shaking fingers, and Robert cups his face in his hands and kisses him.

It feels like coming home.

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me [on tumblr.](http://madroxed.tumblr.com/)


End file.
